There’s a song, immortalized by Frank Sinatra, that declares New York City as the greatest place on Earth. I want to believe it too. I’ve lived moments in New York City where the energy felt electric — friendships forged, nights stretched long, and even love blossomed amid the towering skyline. The city pulses with possibility, and it’s easy to understand why millions are drawn to its streets.
But for all its magic, New York City can also be a harsh, unforgiving place — especially for someone like me, a woman living with cerebral palsy.
The City That Tests Your Limits
I’m not a newcomer who’s skeptical because of hometown bias. I grew up in Los Angeles, a city with its own challenges but one that offers the convenience of cars and wide-open spaces. New York, in contrast, is a labyrinth of sidewalks, subway stairs, and crowded streets — built on a scale and with an attitude that doesn’t always consider bodies like mine.
One chilly day in Manhattan years ago, I set out to walk from the Metropolitan Museum of Art down Fifth Avenue to the Plaza Hotel. I had done my mental calculations — I could walk about 30 minutes before needing to rest, and the distance seemed manageable. But the cold, 18-degree air stiffened my muscles. Every step sent jolts of pain through my body. There were no benches to pause on, no ledges to lean against. My only option was to keep going, counting down the minutes.
Then, a doorman spotted me struggling and called out, “Blue coat! Blue coat!” He beckoned me inside a nearby building with a warmth that contrasted the cold street. “Let me get you some tea. Sit right there,” he said, guiding me to a leather chair. The woman beside me, wrapped in fur with a small dog, looked concerned. “Why didn’t you just take a cab?” she asked.
I could have. But I often try to manage on foot — walking, then resting, then walking again — negotiating my body’s limits in real time. The city demands this kind of constant calculus from me.
A City Not Built for Everyone
New York’s subway system, with its numerous stairs and often unreliable elevators, feels like an obstacle course designed to exclude. It’s a place that challenges me daily: “Can you manage that flight of stairs?” “Can you safely hail a cab without stepping into traffic?” It’s exhausting to always be preparing for the next hurdle.
Watching others sprint to catch trains, seamlessly navigate bodega steps, or disappear into yellow taxis reminds me how free their bodies move here. I admire the city’s flow but resent the way it highlights my differences. I’ve learned not to resent my body for what it can’t do, but the city’s indifference can be a painful reminder.
Accessibility Beyond the Surface
In Los Angeles, I move mostly by car, which offers a different kind of freedom. When I lived in London, the Tube’s escalators and elevators made getting around easier. Japan’s efficient train system also impressed me during a brief layover. But it was in Vienna where I was truly moved — I cried riding public transit where every subway stop is wheelchair accessible, buses and streetcars accommodate all bodies, and there’s no mental or physical gymnastics to just get on and off.
New York’s Metropolitan Transportation Authority (MTA) has struggled to meet the Americans with Disabilities Act standards for over 30 years, despite some progress and recent leadership changes. Accessibility improvements benefit everyone — whether you’re pushing a stroller, carrying groceries, or nursing an injury. Sometimes, it’s as simple as not wanting to climb stairs on a given day.
The Realities of Living Disabled in NYC
The brutal truth is that accessibility in New York City is patchy at best. Programs like Access-a-Ride, intended to help, often feel like consolation prizes rather than solutions. It’s tiring — physically, mentally, and financially — to navigate a system that wasn’t designed with disabled people in mind. The city that never sleeps often feels like a place where disabled bodies are forced to keep watch, forever calculating limits and compromises.
I wish I could say the answer was simple, that visiting or living here with a disability didn’t involve constant hardship. I wish people understood that this isn’t just about inconvenience; it’s about dignity, equality, and the right to belong. And I wish the city I love so deeply could be better — truly better — at welcoming all of its residents and visitors, regardless of their abilities.
How We Can Help Make NYC Truly Accessible
There are many New Yorkers working to change this — advocating for better transit access, pushing for full ADA compliance, and supporting organizations dedicated to disability rights. You can join the movement too: get involved with local advocacy groups, report accessibility issues to the MTA, or let city leadership know that an inclusive transit system isn’t just a nice-to-have — it’s a necessity.
A Hope for the Future
For all its frustrations, New York City remains a place of immense possibility. If it can extend that possibility to include people of all abilities — if it can be a city where every body can move freely and with dignity — then maybe, just maybe, it will truly live up to the title of the best city in the world.
Until then, my love for this city is complicated. It’s a love that demands change, understanding, and above all, accessibility for all.
